


Overload

by GriffinRose



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, Like the team is there but this isn't about them, Peter Parker Whump, Sensory Overload, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Whump, Worried Tony Stark, mild whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-06-29 20:24:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19837885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GriffinRose/pseuds/GriffinRose
Summary: If his senses were at an eleven before, now they're at fifteen. He's not sure how much more of this he can take.And did it have to happen in front of the whole team? That's just embarrassing.





	Overload

Everything Peter Parker knew about being Spiderman he’d figured out the hard way. An old subway tunnel still had some of the remains of his first few webshooter tests. He will neither confirm nor deny whether all the cracked and broken subway tiles were like that before he got there.

Point was, some things took trial and error. There was a lot of learning as he went, especially now that Thanos was defeated, the Sokovia Accords were shredded and burned, the Avengers were reunited, and Spiderman was going on missions with them.

Not a lot of missions. The ones that happened to be on a weekend or other low-threat-level type of missions. He might have become an official Avenger, but there were still a lot of training wheels.

After Titan, Peter found he didn’t mind as much as he would have beforehand.

Since missions didn’t always line up perfectly with a high school schedule, Peter’s weekends were mostly spent training at the compound upstate.

It was during one such weekend that he learned a very crucial bit of information about himself.

Xx

The training weekends were great. Peter ran team drills with everyone and practiced hand-to-hand, and then for extra team bonding they ordered take-out and watched a movie.

Peter still wasn’t sure how his life had become something where _movie nights with the Avengers_ were normal. It was easy to justify the use of time, too. He turned to movies for strategies all the time, so it was almost research. And Captain America had a lot of catching up to do. It was their patriotic duty to help him.

These nights had been happening for a while. It was what Peter looked forward to most.

With a plate of pizza, chicken wings, and a glass of mountain dew, Peter happily sat down to watch the first Lord of the Rings Director’s cut edition. The soda was a real treat. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d had any. The drink of choice for the others was usually alcoholic, and they enjoyed rubbing his age in while he sipped on water or milk.

They didn’t talk much during the movies; exhaustion left them content to watch silently, aside from a few sarcastic remarks they just couldn’t keep to themselves. They also wanted to let Steve actually watch the movie.

Everything was fine and normal for the first hour. The food settled in their stomachs, and they naturally relaxed more and quieted down. The movie seemed a little louder than normal, but no one else seemed bothered so Peter tried to ignore it.

Was the team always this fidgety? Nat crossed her legs. Tony pulled out his phone to answer some emails. Clint’s fingers kept twitching anytime a bow came on screen. Bruce swirled the remains of a cocktail in its glass. Steve sunk down slightly in his seat. Hundreds of innocent little movements, constantly.

Not like he was one to talk. He couldn’t seem to stop bouncing his leg.

And was Thor’s breathing always this loud? Peter had sat next to him during movies before, and it he’d never noticed it until now. The deep breaths couldn’t drown out the movie though, the soundtrack only growing louder as the movie went on. Was that normal? Did movies do that to try and heighten the tension for the audience?

It was definitely working in Peter.

He even angled his arm on the couch so he could cover one of his ears, at least, but it wasn’t helping much.

Footsteps should not be this loud.

Wanda setting her glass down on the coffee table should not echo in his head. The leather couches did not creak this obnoxiously.

Oh God and now Bruce had fallen asleep and was _snoring_. And his head kept nodding forward, and each dip had Peter glancing to the side as it caught his eye.

What the hell was wrong with him?

Movie. Just watch the movie.

Swords clashed and metal scraped; Peter winced. _Why_ was this so loud? Okay, yeah, he had better hearing than most of them, but so did Steve and Steve seemed just fine.

Someone yelled on the screen. Peter couldn’t even tell who at this point. It was like Thor had screamed right in his ear, and dear God he couldn’t do this for another hour.

He all but bolted from his seat and speed walked to the bathroom, shutting the door and leaning back against it, sliding down to the floor and covering his ears. He never even turned the lights on.

It was quieter in here, for sure. But he could still hear the movie, and he wanted so badly to just mute everything right now, put the world on pause for an hour.

Nervous energy still thrummed through him, but even bouncing his foot lightly on the floor or tapping his fingers against his head was too much noise right now.

And why was it so hot in here? He was going to sweat through his shirt, a shirt that definitely had not been this itchy when he put it on.

It was like the night he’d been bitten all over again. Everything was too much.

But with the bite, his senses had spiked up to fifteen and then eventually settled down again at eleven, which he’d just had to get used to. Hopefully they’d do the same now, and then he’d worry about why he’d had a sudden flare up. Thinking was too much to process on top of everything else around him right now.

He just had to wait. It would settle down or he’d adjust, and everything would be fine.

Just wait.

This would be so much easier if he didn’t feel like tearing off his own skin and climbing the walls. Or burying his head underground. Whatever it took to get away from any and all sound because good lord how loud could this movie get? Were his senses still going up? Shouldn’t they be going down by now?

Dear god don’t tell him this could still get _worse_ he couldn’t handle _worse_ this was already terrible enough as it was. He might actually have to find help if things got any worse.

Would they even be able to do anything? Things were just…super loud. What were they going to do, lock him in a sound proof closet? Did they even have one of those?

The lab. That was soundproof.

Soundproof, but not necessarily quiet, Peter realized with a sinking heart. There was always some machine whirring and running tests.

There had to be another soundproof room in this compound _somewhere_. His bedroom, maybe? He couldn’t remember if they were soundproof or not. But his room was at least farther away from the living room than this bathroom was, which meant the movie wouldn’t be as loud in there.

He took a deep breath. His bedroom would also provide an excuse for leaving the movie early if he buried himself under his pillow. He could claim he went to bed early. There would be endless teasing about the baby staying up past his bedtime, but that was so far down on his list of priorities it barely even made the list.

Bedroom. Bedroom would be quiet. The hall on the other side of the door wouldn’t be, but it would only be a few seconds. He could do this.

His legs shook as he climbed up to his feet. He should not be dreading a quick sprint through the hall this much. He’d done more terrifying things this morning when he sparred with Natasha.

“You’re Spiderman, you can do this,” he whispered. Even his own voice was too loud. This might actually be worse than the night he was bitten.

He took one more deep breath, turned, and yanked the door open.

If sound alone could actually knock someone over, Peter would have been blasted back into the glass shower. His knees almost buckled and he bit his lip so hard he drew blood.

He took two steps towards his room before he leaned against the wall. Three more unsteady steps. His head pounded. It was like all the foot traffic of the city stomping around his skull.

Lights from the movie flashed in the hall, each one a truck colliding with his brain.

_Shit he couldn’t do this._

He slipped to his knees on the ground and ducked his head down. He might have been crying. He couldn’t tell. There was too much going on, too much for his brain to properly process.

“Mr. Parker, do you require assistance?” Friday asked him.

Peter whimpered and screwed his eyes shut. Too loud, everything was too loud…

Hands were suddenly on his back. “Peter! What happened?” Tony asked.

Peter hunched in on himself. “Loud,” he forced out through his teeth. Like that was going to be enough to explain what was happening.

“What, the movie? You could have asked us to turn it down.”

So much noise. Too much noise, too close.

“Shhhhh,” Peter pleaded. He should have stayed in the bathroom.

“I’m going to ignore the fact that you just shushed me,” Tony said. “But we will be revisiting that later.”

“Bet your ass we are,” Sam said somewhere behind Peter.

“Not helpful,” Tony said.

“These might be,” Wanda said. She kneeled in front of Peter and pulled his hands away from his ears, slipping headphones over them instead.

The world went mute.

He blinked up at Wanda, fingers tentatively tracing the headphones.

She smiled at him.

Peter had no idea why she had noise cancelling headphones, but he’d never been more grateful for anything in his life. Things were still too much; his clothes still itched and every movement of the others around him was distracting, but silencing one of his major senses helped exponentially.

“Thank you,” Peter said.

Tony tapped his shoulder and held his phone out to Peter, an unsent email open on the screen. He’d written out “What was that?” on it.

Peter half-shrugged. “I don’t…I’m not sure?” He wasn’t trying to speak very loudly, and it was incredibly bizarre to not hear his own voice. “Everything’s just….too much.”

Tony frowned and pulled his phone back, typing something out.

Peter took a few breaths. The silence was helping, and the movie must have been paused when they came to see what was wrong with him because nothing was flashing in the hall anymore. The nervous energy hadn’t gone away yet, though, and his fingers were twitching.

Tony’s phone reappeared in his line of sight. “Sensory overload? What do you need right now?”

He’d never heard of Sensory overload before, but if Peter had to name what was happening right now that seemed like as good a name as any. All of his senses were definitely overloaded.

“The quiet helps,” Peter said, glancing at Wanda again. “Maybe some place dark? I was on my way to my room.”

Tony nodded and put his phone back in his pocket, and then with a hand under Peter’s arm he helped Peter back to his feet. The touch was light and more of a guide than anything else, but Peter’s whacked out senses were trying to claim that Tony’s hand was too warm, the pressure was too much.

They made it to Peter’s room. The lights stayed off and Tony led Peter to his bed, where Peter gratefully face-planted into his pillow and tried to forget he even existed.

A few minutes went by, and then there was a tap on his shoulder. Peter lifted his head and opened one eye to see Tony’s phone hovering inches from his face with one last question. “Has this happened before?”

“Not since the night I got bit.”

Tony’s brow pinched together. He looked like there was a whole conversation he wanted to have about that, and Peter was already dreading it. When Tony typed out another sentence, Peter was resigning himself to a lecture, but instead all it said was “Try and get some sleep if you can.” Then Tony patted his shoulder, stood up, and walked out of the room.

Peter should probably question that, but this quiet solitude was too much to give up. He’d deal with it later.

Xx

He didn’t sleep, not really, just wallowed in discomfort for two hours until the individual strands in his pillow case didn’t stick out so much against his skin and his shirt didn’t bother him anymore. When the nervous energy finally drained out of his body, he rolled onto his back and took a deep breath of cool air.

He meant to take the headphones off and test his hearing, and then to tell Mr. Stark and the others that he was feeling better. But he let his eyes shut and the next thing he knew sunlight was peeking in through the edges of his windows.

He still felt exhausted, but his mouth also felt like the Sahara desert and he was craving company. It didn’t really matter who.

It took him several minutes of sitting up in bed before he had the will to swing his legs over the side. He’d knocked the headphones off at some point in the night and he grabbed those before he left, sitting them around his neck just in case. Things felt like they were back to normal, but he still didn’t know what had triggered it last night and he wasn’t up for a repeat so soon.

Only Steve and Clint were in the kitchen making breakfast when he shuffled in. They perked up at his entrance and waved, eyes looking him up and down.

“You can talk, it’s fine,” Peter said, grabbing a glass of water.

“Feeling better then?” Steve asked. He still kept his voice quiet, which Peter appreciated.

“Yeah. I don’t know what last night was about.” He sipped his water, and nothing had ever tasted so good.

“We’ll let the scientists figure that out later,” Clint said. He flipped a few pancakes. “You up for breakfast?”

Peter nodded. He probably wouldn’t eat as much as he usually could, but he knew he couldn’t skip breakfast. That would only bite him in the ass later. Stupid spider metabolism…

“Good answer,” Clint said. He scooped up the pancakes and added them to a plate already piled high.

Steve fried up bacon and enough eggs for an army on the stove behind Clint.

He took a seat on the barstool facing Clint and sipped at his water. A plate appeared in front of him eventually, full of pancakes, eggs, and bacon, and he blinked. Neither Clint nor Steve said a word about it, and it didn’t even look like either of them had broken stride.

The rest of the team started to filter in and grab their own plates. They gave him smiles and rubbed his head like he was a little kid.

He offered the headphones back to Wanda when she came in, but she shook her head. “Keep them for now.”

“Why do you even have those?” Clint asked.

“I use them when I’m training, sometimes.” She shrugged. “They help me concentrate.”

Peter settled them around his neck again. “Thank you, again. They really helped.”

“Good.” She nodded, and that was the end of it.

He waited anxiously for Mr. Stark to come in, twisting to look down the hall with every new pair of footsteps he heard. So far, he’d been disappointed every time.

His plate was already in the dishwasher and his seat reclaimed by Sam when Mr. Stark ambled in. He was already showered and dressed, which Peter thought was a little overachieving for a Sunday morning, but Tony was never one to let his image crack.

Not like Peter had last night.

The interrogation didn’t happen right away. Mr. Stark went for his coffee that Friday had already started before he even came in, and he grabbed a plate of eggs and bacon.

All the others were quick to vanish to something or other while Tony ate, some muttering about training or case files, others just getting up and walking out.

By the time the plate was empty and the coffee drained, it was just Peter and Tony.

“So,” Tony started. “You’re back to normal, now?”

“Yeah,” Peter said. He hovered on the other side of the island. “I swear I have no idea what happened last night.”

“I believe you. I just don’t understand why you didn’t ask for help. It had to have been a gradual thing, right?”

“Yeah.” Peter shifted on his feet, looking anywhere but at Tony. “But it was just loud, and I was really distracted, I figured it was just me, or something.”

“And then it got to a point where you couldn’t handle it anymore,” Tony finished.

Peter nodded.

“And the only other time this has happened was the first night the freaky spider bit you?”

Peter nodded again.

“You didn’t get bit again, did you?”

“No!” Peter glared at him.

“Hey, just making sure.”

It was a logical assumption, Peter supposed. But as far as he knew the only spider capable of doing this to him was already dead.

“Alright. Walk me through your day,” Tony said.

“You were there for ninety percent of it,” Peter grumbled.

“I know. And I’ve reviewed your day with Friday a dozen times and I still can’t figure it out. You didn’t do anything yesterday that you don’t normally do.”

Peter shook his head. “No, nothing was weird about yesterday. It was just…random.”

“I wonder if it was something you ate,” Tony mused.

“No, I didn’t eat anything weird either.” He’d had plenty of pizza and wings in the last year since the bite, and this had never happened before. The only thing remotely out of the ordinary was the mountain dew, but he’d probably had that at some point in the last year, too.

…hadn’t he? Now that he thought about it, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had soda. Aunt May never bought it because money was tight and if it wasn’t essential, it didn’t enter the apartment. They usually got water when they went out to eat for the same reason.

“Mountain dew?” Peter asked. It sounded dumb. How did drinking something enhance his hearing? The extra sugar would account for the almost ADHD qualities his sight had taken on, but even that was stretching it.

Tony made his thinking face and looked up at the ceiling. “The caffeine. I could see that. Raises your blood pressure and heart rate, the rest of your senses hyper focus as a result. But you’re seriously telling me you haven’t had any coffee or soda since you were bitten?”

Peter shook his head. “I don’t drink coffee and we don’t get soda that often. I usually just drink water to make sure I stay hydrated.” He’d had some close calls with dehydration over the summer and was not up for repeating those _ever_.

“I’ll be damned. You’re never going to be able to enjoy real coffee.”

That was his takeaway from this? Peter was squishing down guilt that he’d reacted so badly to the soda someone had gone out of their way to get for him, and Tony was worried about his non-existent coffee consumption.

Then again, it was morning, and Tony had only had one cup so far. A solid quarter of his mind was probably devoted to the topic at this point.

“Sorry,” Tony shook his head and looked back at Peter. “But we’ve learned two things this weekend. Number one: keep you away from caffeine at all costs.”

Peter snorted. It wasn’t like he was about to ever go looking for it.

“And number two, mister ‘I’ll-suffer-in-silence-and-hope-no-one-notices?’”

Peter winced. “Don’t do that?”

“Ding ding, there’s a winner!” Tony said. “The next time you do that, I’m programming Karen to play opera music anytime you’re in the suit.”

“You’re not punishing me now?”

“Kid, you’re in a building full of people who do the same exact thing, myself included. The difference is everyone else has had time to actually learn their limits and they know when it’s time to ask for help. That’s the part you’ve got to work on.”

Peter nodded.

“Alright, good talk. I’m going to pour that mountain dew down the drain, and Friday? Peter Parker is not allowed to have anything with caffeine in it for any reason.”

“Duly noted,” Friday responded.

Any other time, Peter would have rolled his eyes and called out Mr. Stark for babying him. He wasn’t going to seek out coffee on his own, and a little trust would be nice. But on this one, Peter was willing to accept a little extra help from the AI if it meant _never_ going through what he did last night again.


End file.
